Spitting Image
by Chelse30
Summary: At 15, Emma Swan dyes her hair. She thought the color would keep people from noticing her. Years later, she realizes it may have been a family connection that led her pick that one color. Charming Family AU


_Before I get yelled at for not updating _In Sickness and In Health_, I'd just like to say that I've had this idea since reading a post about it on tumblr during the second season of the show. Also my muse has legitimately taken a vacation over the last few months hence the no update. This may be terrible but it had to be written or I woulda gone insane, so hopefully someone likes it! Oh, this is complete AU from the show. If anything it'd be during second season, but you can decide when it takes place!_

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><p>At six years old, Emma Swan was teased for having the lightest hair in her first grade class. She already knew Billy was annoying and mean, but his words still hurt. When the little blonde told her foster mom, all she told the young girl was that he liked her and didn't know how to express his feelings, hence the teasing. So Emma shrugged it off and ignored all of Billy's rude comments.<p>

At fifteen, Emma started at a new school. She wore her long, curly, blonde hair down, a natural curtain to shield her from the other students. But the pervy boys seemed to be interested in her, correction, in her _hair_, so she wore it in a ponytail from that day forward.

She had gotten used to the stares people would give as she walked down the street, the pretty girl with the pretty hair; she might as well had a bulls-eye printed on her forehead with all the remarks she got. For many teenage girls, they would bask in the attention her natural beauty gave her, but all Emma wanted to do was hide from it. Wearing a hood up could only go so far, and she was starting to get headaches from wearing a tight ponytail everyday.

So on a cloudy day, Emma entered a drug store and strolled straight over to the hair dye. Standing in front of the rows and rows of boxes, she gazed over all the different choices. Red was definitely out, that would only give her more attention. She could do a darker blonde, but she wanted to do something drastic. Maybe brunette, but would that be enough to blend in?

While she mulled over the idea of going brown, a sales clerk walked up to her.

"Anything I can help you with, dear?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine, thank you," Emma replied quietly, glancing over at her quickly.

"I hope you're not thinking of dying your hair! It's so beautiful!" The clerk's hand reached up to touch Emma's hair, but she sidestepped out of the way before the hand could reach her.

"I just…I just need a change is all." The worker gave a look but walked away. Emma breathed a sigh of relief, and turned back to the dyes. Her eyes caught on a box on the very top of the shelf. The name of the color was simple, one word, not one of those cutesy name some of the other boxes depicted. She snatched the box from the shelf and quickly made her way over to the checkout counter.

She silently thanked her new foster mom for giving her lunch money the past two weeks while the worker rang her out, ignoring the disapproving look the woman was giving her. With a quick thank you, Emma snatched up the box and shoved it into her backpack.

Once back at the house, she yelled to no one in particular not to bother her, slipped into the bathroom, and locked herself in. Pulling the dye out of her bag and placing it on sink's counter, Emma debated for not the first time that day if she should really go through with this. Even if she hated it, it would be worth not getting stared at anymore. Granted, she might get stared at more in school because of the drastic change, but the interest would die away quickly enough. She could handle it for a few days.

With her mind made up, Emma started to read the direction on the back of the box. By the time she went to bed that night, she would no longer be the girl with curly, blonde hair. No. She would be the girl with hair black as night.

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><p>Thirteen years later, Emma sat in the loft she shared with her parents, rummaging through a box of old things. In it lay her soft, white baby blanket, a few drawings from preschool, and a small envelope of photos.<p>

"Is this all from your childhood?" Emma jumped at the voice and looked up to see her mother sitting in the seat across from her, her father washing dishes behind her, trying, and failing, not to listen in on their conversation.

"Yeah, I forgot I had it. Well, I knew about the blanket of course, but everything else…" her voice caught in her throat when she felt a hand lay across her arm. Snow's eyes revealed the bit of pain she always experienced when thinking of Emma's past, but tinge of curiosity could not be mistaken.

"Would, uh, would you guys like to see?" Emma's voice shook slightly, betraying the nervous energy coursing through her. But at Snow's nod and David rushing over to the table, she knew this was a good idea.

Pushing the box over the table, Emma pulled the blanket out and let it bunch in her lap. She picked at the threads nervously as her mom pulled out the drawings and her dad grabbed the envelope. She watched as Snow's eyes pricked with tears and David's face flashed with several emotions as he flipped through the pictures. When he seemed to do a double take at a photo, Emma felt her gut clench, desperately trying to think of which photo would make her father pause. When all he did was gently touch the photo with his finger, she slowly started to relax. He glanced up at her and smiled softly before passing the photo to his wife, who promptly snatched it from his hand with a gasp.

"What?" Emma exclaimed, her fear instantly coming back. When neither of her parents said anything but continued to stare down at the photo between them, she tried to snatch the photo away to see what was causing this kind of a reaction. Before she could, Snow quickly slipped it off the table and held it against her chest.

"Why did you dye your hair, Emma?" Snow asked, her voice colored in curiosity but her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Uh, I, um, I was tired of everyone staring at me. The blonde was a little too much to handle as a teenager," she twirled the blonde lock around a finger for emphasis. "Why? Are you mad that I dyed my hair? Cause we're about thirteen years too late to be having this argument."

"No! No, it's just you dyed it black," Snow replied softly, sounding almost thrilled about it.

"Yeah? So?" Emma's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"So," David replied, glancing at his wife before looking back towards his daughter, "you're the spitting image of your mother." Before Emma could say a word, Snow slowly slid the picture toward her. Her hands shook as she picked up the photo, eyeing her parents warily.

Glancing down at the photo, she was immediately transported to the time it was taken. She was sitting on a couch with two of her foster brothers. They had just been placed in the home after their parents died in a car crash. The evidence of tears was still on both their faces but Emma could remember telling them a joke about their foster mom to get them to laugh.

"I forgot about this," Emma said wonderingly, stroking the photo carefully. "The social worker who brought them, Natalie, I think her name was, was so surprised to see them laughing she took a picture before we noticed. She sent our foster mother a copy a few days later and she gave it to me to keep. I wonder what happened to those two."

As she continued to stare at the photograph, Emma began to register what her dad had said before she picked up the photo. Staring at her fifteen-year-old self, she could see the strong similarities between herself and drawings of her mom from Henry's storybook. It was clear to her now that she may have gotten her natural hair color from her father's side of the family, but the texture and style of it was all Snow White. She quickly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and looked up to see her parents gazing at her, love and a sense of proudness filling their features.

"I guess this proves I really am your daughter," she jokes, and smiles when her mother rolls eyes and her father laughs, secretly thrilled to have more of a connection with her parents. "But I do have one question." At her parents' confusion, she goes on, biting back a smirk. "Does this mean I'm the _fairest of them all_?"


End file.
